


The Kissing Booth

by sorryimacrapwriter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-06 11:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18387794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorryimacrapwriter/pseuds/sorryimacrapwriter
Summary: (Y/N) has never believed in cliches. They always have too many shortcuts. Too little work. Bucky Barnes really hopes he can change her mind. (College AU)





	1. Chapter 1 - Start of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multi-chapter fic I'm writing that started on Tumblr, so welcome if you found it from there. I'll be posting parts here first from now on. I hope you enjoy it!

It was something of a tradition, the kissing booth. It had started decades ago when the dean at the time had met his wife-to-be at the charity carnival the school put on. In the midst of all the fundraising, the booth had brought them together, and by the next school year, they were engaged.

For years, a trend had followed. At least one couple from the booth—depending on how many people ran it that day—would end up dating and completely in love. Sometimes it took months, sometimes it took years, but it always resulted in a married couple sooner or later. There were 83 years worth of couples to prove it.

That’s why this kind of sucked.

Each year, mimicking the first year the booth had worked its magic, two carnivals were put on—one at the beginning of the fall semester and another to end the spring semester. The event seemed to get bigger every year, so each organization was required to man a booth or activity to help placate the chaos such a large event causes. The group that holds the kissing booth is passed to a different one each carnival. Unfortunately, the duty had been given to the student government council this time around—a council that you were a part of.

So there you stood, enclosed in the brightly colored red and pink booth, counting down the last fifteen minutes of your shift.

It had been slow. For the past forty-five minutes, you’d been sat behind the booth waiting for someone—anyone—to approach, to add to the hundreds of dollars it had racked in the last two shifts. Instead, you watched as people approached the booth in excitement, only to look you in the eyes and seem to decide against the whole ordeal. You supposed you weren’t too upset that a crowd of strangers weren’t jumping up to kiss you, but you definitely couldn’t deny the sense of crippling failure at not being able to raise any money.

You had counted down to eight minutes and seventeen seconds when you suddenly realized that the glowing lights of the carnival had vanished over you. Looking up in confusion, you were met with the sight of James Barnes.

James was what you classified as an outcast. He had been pretty popular his freshman year, but in the middle of his second year, he’d lost his arm in an accident. The whole school knew—it was one of the biggest tragedies the town had seen in a while—but most of the student body seemed to band together to ostracize the boy rather than check up on him.

For a while, he had let them, too. Even his best friend, Steve, couldn’t get him to open up about the ordeal. For almost six months, he had isolated himself from everyone that didn’t care enough to ask if he was okay and, even worse, everyone that did.

It had taken a pretty nasty falling out between Steve and his buddy Tony for James to open up again, and slowly, the rest of Steve’s closest friends had accepted him with open arms. Eventually, Tony and Steve had fallen back into each other’s good graces, but try as Tony might, there was still a strain between himself and James.

And then there was you.

You didn’t play nearly as big a role as Steve or Tony in James’ life, but for some reason, you found yourself near him often. You talked sometimes, but more often than not, you guys just seemed to acknowledge each other’s presence. That was more than could be said for the majority of the student body. It was small nods, or a tiny quirk of the lip, or furrowed eyebrows. It was minuscule, and yet, it made an impact that you couldn’t quite understand. You didn’t try to. You just knew that if you were in his situation, any form of understanding would be more than enough.

You blinked out of your trance at the sound of him clearing his throat. Raising an eyebrow, you hum in acknowledgement.

“Can I help you with something?”

James looks slightly uncomfortable, rubbing at the back of his neck before speaking.

“I just wanted to come see how you were doing,” he mutters, seemingly trying to get more comfortable in the surprisingly quiet area, watching you carefully. “Steve said you drew the short straw.”

You scoff loudly, your lips drawn into a scowl.

“Oh, I’m peachy. Thanks for asking. But if your aren’t here to make a donation, I’d prefer if you leave,” you drawl.

A loud bark of laughter escapes his lips.

“Right. Because people are just lining up to make donations,” he says, and it amazes you how quickly his nerves seemed to vanish and teasing took over. “Or maybe you just really want to kiss me, huh, doll? Think you can rope me into being your lifelong partner?”

You laugh half-heartedly, waving a hand as if to brush off his words.

“Please, don’t tell me you actually believe that old story?”

James’ face falls into a soft frown, eyebrows crinkling in disbelief. “Wait, you don’t? How is that possible? I thought everyone at this school believed in it.”

Another group of boys walk by, eyeing the booth enthusiastically before meeting your gaze and turning abruptly. Sighing in exasperation, you turn to James.

“It’s just a story. Stuff like that doesn’t happen in real life,” you say. “I bet if you look at all of the past relationships that supposedly made it to happily ever after, most of them would be over now. People just want to believe that finding love is that easy. It’s not. It’s hard work and commitment, and even then, it doesn’t always work out. A kissing booth isn’t going to do all of the work for you just because you want it to.”

James grows quiet for a moment, watching as you lean your chin on your palm, looking lazily at the crowd passing by. Biting his lip softly, he speaks again.

“Did you get hurt in the past or something, doll? You seem awful cynical about something you don’t believe in. Parents divorce? Ex-boyfriend, ex-girlfriend cheat?”

You roll your eyes and scoff.

“Why does everyone think that something shitty has to have happened for someone to think that way? Maybe I just don’t believe in cliches,” you say in exasperation.

Bucky looks at you with wide eyes, raising his hands in submission when he notices how frustrated you’re getting.

“Okay, sorry, it’s just…” he pauses like he’s trying to determine whether or not it’s worth saying. “You’re telling me you don’t believe in love at first sight? Or finding the ‘one’?”

You shake your head blandly.

“Not really. It’s just a bunch of appealing ideas that don’t ever really bear fruit. They just get people’s hopes up,” you mutter, waving nonchalantly as you look at the sun setting over the carnival.

James stares at you with a furrowed brow, and you look back, not worrying to try and decipher the look. He’s a big boy. If he wants you to know what’s on his mind, he’ll let you know. And he does.

“You really don’t believe in that sorta thing?” he asks slowly, his gaze lingering on your eyes as you shake your head again, shrugging for good measure. “Then how about we kiss?”

Your brow furrows now, confusion washing over your features at his words.

“Kiss? You mean, for the kissing booth?”

“Kinda. I have always been a sucker for romance, so I’m curious now. The legend is that when two people kiss at the kissing booth, they end up together. And you haven’t kissed anyone else, so if it’s true, you and I will end up together.”

Your lips purse immediately.

“How do you know I haven’t kissed anyone?”

He pauses for all of a second, and for a moment, you’re sure you’ve imagined it.

“Your jar is empty,” he says calmly, gesturing to the jar, free of bills, sitting to the side of the makeshift table.

You pout before looking at him again.

“You’re serious?”

A nod is all you need for you to put your hand out.

“That’ll be $50,” you coo, looking at him coolly.

His eyebrows shoot up suddenly, and you note for the first time how open and comfortable he’s acting with you despite you never really talking before.

“$50?” he nearly screeches. “The sign says a dollar!”

A soft tsk leaves your lips. “Yeah, well, the sign doesn’t cover my pride being challenged, now does it, James?”

“This is extortion!” he protests. Even as he says the words, his eyes sparkle with laughter, and he already has his wallet out, counting out the money.

“This is criminal. You’re a criminal,” he teases. “And, if we’re gonna kiss, I think it’s safe to say you can call me Bucky.”

You roll your eyes, the corner of your lip quirking up in amusement.

“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with, Lover Boy,” you mutter, stuffing the stack of fives in the jar.

Bucky gives a charming smile, and it almost reminds you of the one he use to sport before he got into the accident.

“You really wanna kiss me, huh, doll—“

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else because you suddenly reach for his collar and bring his face towards yours. He yelps, the sound being smothered by the way your lips meet in a kiss. Regardless, you can’t ignore the way he sighs against your mouth.

You kiss for longer than you thought you would, but it throws you off when you feel something in your chest. It’s not butterflies, but you refuse to give it any further thought.

Pulling back, you furrow your eyebrows at the dazed look on Bucky’s face. He blinks heavily before giving you a goofy grin.

“You should’ve charged me more,” he mutters, and you decide to take it as a compliment. Still, you roll your eyes.

“Whatever, Bucky! Move along!”

He laughs, walking backwards as he leaves.

“You’re gonna be seeing a lot more of me, doll. We’re destined to be together now.”

Scoffing, you return to your slumped position, waiting for the last few minutes of your shift to finish up. Nonetheless, you can’t ignore the twisting of your stomach, and somehow, you know you signed up for a lot more than you bargained for when you agreed to a simple kiss.


	2. Chapter 2 - A Little Pick Me Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) runs into Bucky at the university improv club after their mutual friend Sam invites him. As if like old friends, everything seems to melt into place with a little help from some stupid pick up lines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being impulsive and posting this here before it's edited or on Tumblr, so that's fun. Thank you for all of the kudos, and don't forget to comment on what you like and dislike so I can make it more enjoyable for y'all. Thanks!

You don’t even make it a week before you see Bucky again. He seems so stiff and grumpy that you’re almost surprised that it’s him. He always had a blank look, sure, but you had never seen him looking this down. 

Raising an eyebrow, you weave between the small group of people mingling amongst each other to reach his side. 

“Bucky? What are you doing here?”

In a split second, his scowl is gone. His eyes seem to sparkle with sudden interest, and his arms swing open wide with joy. You notice the hesitancy in his prosthetic arm’s movements, but you ignore it, certain focusing on it for too long will only make him more self conscious.

“(Y/N)! The booth is already working it’s magic, I see.”

You roll your eyes, nonetheless chuckling along. 

“Please, Barnes. If it was really magic, I’d be in love with you by now.”

“You’re telling me you’re not?” he teases, his smirk getting wider the more you roll your eyes. “I’m kidding!”

You hum, unconvinced, but ignore it for now. 

“Seriously, Barnes. What are you doing here? You don’t seem like the joking type.”

He feigns offense immediately, clutching at his heart dramatically. 

“You wound me, (Y/N),” He drawls, looking you square in the eye. When your gaze doesn’t falter, he chuckles lightly, his teasing look softening into a fond grin. 

“Sam invited me,” he explains. “I’ve been in a funk since the carnival apparently. I have a theory that it has something to do with you.”

You roll your eyes, looking at him blandly. You can feel a snarky response fighting its way from your lips, but the president of the improv group calls everyone into a circle before you have a chance. Sighing, you gather among the group, Bucky not too far behind. 

“Alright, folks! Let’s get started. I see a few new faces, but I hope you manage to make some friends while you’re here. Let’s get started on our first exercise. I want everyone to pair off, and then we’ll have each pair come to the front and talk normally. The rest of us will have to come up with a prompt of some sort, and you’ll have to finish your conversation using said prompt. Let’s go!”

Bucky tugs you to the side, and you don’t miss the raised eyebrow from Sam. You simply shrug, waiting for your turn in front of the group. 

The prompts are incredibly random, ranging from singing everything to acting like aliens trying to blend in with humans, so by the time it gets around to your turn, you have no idea what to expect. 

Bucky has relaxed even more since minutes ago, and he seems to exude confidence as he starts out your impromptu scene. 

“Honey, hey, I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been?”

You roll our eyes at how exaggerated his tone is, but you smile along for the scene. 

“Patrick, oh my gosh! I’ve been good, how about you? You look worse than the last time I saw you.”

Your voice dips in concern as you place your hands on his shoulders and look him over, and you have to hold back laughter as a pout makes its way onto Bucky’s face. Quickly, though, it turns into a smirk. 

“Oh, I’m much better now that I’ve seen you. You’re glowing.”

You snicker at that, opening your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the president speaking up.

“Prompts?”

You continue as if they aren’t there. 

“Please, I just got back from washing my car. I look like a drowned cat.”

Bucky laughs loudly, and his eyes sparkle with humor as he looks at you. He steps closer, and you can feel his body heat meet your skin.

“I think—“

“Choking on something!”

“They can’t hear each other?”

“Pick up lines!”

“Yes, good! Pick up lines,” the president concludes, her gaze expectant. 

Bucky doesn’t miss a beat. 

“I think you’d make a great cat because I’m certainly feline a connection.”

You nearly choke on your tongue as you try not to laugh. 

“You must be going bananas, but at least it makes you more appealing,” you tease, walking around him and bumping your hip against his lightly. 

“Yeah, yeah. Well, I know this is going to sound cheesy, but you’re honestly just the gratest....”

He punctuates his sentence with a look that seems to be hoping for gratification, and you try to keep a straight face, but the second he raises an eyebrow teasingly, you can’t help but cackle. 

“Wow, your words are like ninjas,” you mutter, wiping at the tears that prick the corner of your eyes from laughing. 

Bucky looks at you confused for a moment, but he gets lost in the way your smile warms your cheeks. 

“What do you mean?”

“Because they managed to sneak their way into my heart,” you say sweetly, winking at the end. 

Bucky pauses suddenly, voice hitching in his throat at the flirtatious tone. 

“Was that an earthquake or did you just rock my world?”

You smother the laugh as you see the president motion for the two of you to wrap it up. Instead, you smirk teasingly, poking Bucky’s nose softly. 

“I think I’m gonna get a cavity from how sickeningly sweet you are.”

“Not as sweet as your...,” he trails off, his gaze lingering on your figure before returning to your face with a wicked grin. “Smile.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you tease, moving away now as if to leave. “It was great to see you again, Patrick, but I’ve got to get going before I start acting like glue and get stuck on you.”

“Don’t go too fast. I’m sure you’re already tired from running through my mind all day!”

“Oh my god, bye!” You giggle, waving over your shoulder as you walk off and past the group of members. 

Immediately, a small rumble of applause bubbles to life. You turn back around to Bucky, and both of you move to the back of the crowd as the next pair goes. 

“Good job with that scene, Bucky,” you say softly, watching the pair.

“You too, beautiful,” he responds lightly. 

You glance over, and the cheeky grin on his lips makes you chuckle. 

“Who knew you were such a flirt?” You joke. 

The rest of the meeting goes by smoothly, and by the end, Bucky had eased up. Most of the club members still dance around having to interact with him, but that doesn’t stop a few of them—mostly friends of you and Sam—from coming over and chatting. 

The small group that had accumulated around the two of you walked out of the room together, promising to meet up sometime. You raise a hand to wave to everyone as they separate, but Bucky lingers by your side. You quirk an eyebrow in question. 

“Give me your phone,” he says blandly, sticking his hand out. 

You look at him in confusion before silently pulling your phone from your pocket and handing it to him. 

He presses wordlessly at the screen, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. He takes another few seconds before the phone is back in your hands. 

The screen is opened to the address book, a new number freshly added. The name reads “Soulmate” and you can’t help rolling your eyes. Pushing his shoulder lightly, you change it quickly. 

You look up just in time to watch his disappointment vanish, and a blinding smile takes its place. 

“You’re hurting my soul, beautiful,” he drawls, and you simply chuckle. 

“You’re leaning too hard into this ‘destined to be together’ thing, Bucky.”

His grin widens, and a boisterous laugh tumbles from his lips. 

“I believe in the booth,” he counters. “By the end of all this, I’m sure you will too.”

You quirk an eyebrow at his proposal. 

“You’re gonna be awful hurt when it doesn’t go the way you want it to.”

He shrugs, sticking his hands in his pocket and shooting you a goofy smile. 

“We’ll see. And if not, at least we’ll be friends, yeah?”

You can’t help but pause. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d even heard of Bucky making a friend, much less going out of his way to make the first move. Sure, he’d been friendly with the members of the improv group, but it felt different than how he acted around you and Sam. 

A small smile makes its way to your lips. 

“Yeah,” you muse. “Friends.”

You don’t know how long the pair of you are standing in the middle of the road just looking at each other, but by the time you blink out of your daze, you realize the wind has picked up. 

“I should get going, Buck. It was fun today, though. We should hang out again.”

“Falling for my charms already, doll?”

You scowl at his words, and he raises his hands in surrender almost immediately. His eyes glisten with laughter, but the sincerity behind them is still plain as day. 

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Yeah, we should. Call me?”

You nod, already starting to walk away. “Will do.” 

He stays watching you as you turn around, and even if you don’t see it, his smile grows more fond.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Way To A Man's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and (Y/N) are getting closer and closer every day, and their friendship only seems to grow when flour begins to fly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so edgy and impulsive that I'm posting another chapter before I can edit it or put it on Tumblr. Leave a comment and let me know what can be improved upon and what I'm doing decently. I appreciate your guys' support! Enjoy!

In a matter of a month or so, Bucky has managed to weasel his way into your everyday life. Sometimes you guys would eat together, other times you’d study, but regardless of the activity, he was becoming more of a norm. 

Which is how he ended up by your side as you walked into a room the size of ten kitchens with enough equipment to match. 

“Whoa...,” Bucky muttered, eyes skimming the space with wonder. 

You smile softly, walking him over to one of the stations. 

“Welcome to the culinary and baking club. I think you know the VP, Wanda Maximoff? She’s been needing a few more hands in the kitchen, so I thought I would bring you here. It’ll be fun.”

“Anything is fun when you’re around, gorgeous,” he mutters, gaze fixated on the mountain of ingredients piled on top of the main counter. 

You roll your eyes at his words, used to the cheesy lines he had made a habit of using. Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop you from making a big deal out of his antics. At this point, however, he’s gotten used to the dynamic you both adopted, and he pushes you lightly in amusement just as Wanda walks in. 

“Hey, guys!” She calls out. “Could everyone gather around so we can get everyone decided on a job?”

Without question, the group moves to crowd around the counter to listen in. 

“Okay! As everyone knows, there is going to be a bake sale to raise funds for the end of semester retreat. We’ve got a pretty hefty bulk of recipes to make, so let’s get those assigned. Call out if you want to work on a certain treat!”

She pauses to look around to make sure everyone understands. Pleased, she starts up again. 

“Okay, first we have brownies?”  
A pause as people raise their hands and gather together to start working. “Cinnamon buns?”

You turn to Bucky as Wanda continues to list off desserts to be made. You raise an eyebrow in question, and he doesn’t need you to speak out loud to know what it means. He responds with an equally silent response of a sheepish grin. 

He doesn’t know what he wants to make. 

You heave a loud sigh, but the amusement in the action is clear as day. Listening in again, you wait for one to catch your attention. 

“Chocolate muffins? Neapolitan cake pops? Vegan chocolate chip cookies?”

You grab Bucky’s wrist and raise both of your hands. He furrows his brow slightly, but he doesn’t fight it when you drag him to the counter where three other members of the club have gathered. 

The small group—a boy and two girls—watches Bucky with caution as you both approach, and you can’t help the firm glare you shoot them when you finally make it to the table. One of the girls and the guy seem embarrassed at having been caught, but the other girl continues her guarded glare. You decide to step between her and Bucky silently despite feeling like choking her out. 

The guy speaks up lowly, quickly going over everything that needs to be done. In a matter of moments, all of the ingredients are being divided into large bowls. 

You and Bucky are assigned to the dry ingredients with the nicer of the girls.

“Do you guys always make so many vegan options?” Bucky says, being the first to speak up among the three of you. “Do we have that big of a vegan population?”

The other girl—on the other side of the large counter—scoffs at his question. You glare in her direction again despite her gaze staying locked on the measuring cup as she slowly pours in the soy milk. 

You bump your hip against Bucky’s lightly, moving your stern glare to meet his with a softer look.

“Even if the population isn’t big, it’s always nice to take them into consideration. They’ll want to help out a bit more if they know we thought of them.”

Bucky moves to speak only to be cut off by the girl helping you guys out. 

“There are also people with food allergies,” she mutters shyly. “Wanda always tries to take them into account whenever she can.”

Bucky pauses to look at her before a large, shy smile takes over his lips. 

“You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that,” he muses, appreciation flooding his eyes, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s realized something or because she talked to him first. Either way, it sends a warm feeling through your chest, and you smile down at your bowl of flour. 

Your eyes dart back up when you hear a soft gasp. You expect to see someone had fallen or burned themselves, but instead, you’re met with a blushing girl. 

You giggle softly at the layer of red overtaking her plump, pale cheeks. Her eyes have glassed over slightly, and she looks ridiculously adorable as she tries to take her gaze away from Bucky. You have to smother your laughter when she glances over at you in embarrassment. You think you’ve hidden it pretty well until a certain someone moves to meet your gaze. 

“You got something you want to say, beautiful?” Bucky quips with an eyebrow raised mockingly. 

You scoff loudly, pushing him away softly and grabbing the discarded bag of flour to start on another batch of measurements. 

“No, Barnes,” you tease with a wild grin as you turn to face him, putting the scoop into the bag and grabbing a knife. “So get back to work, yeah?”

His chance to respond is interrupted by a cloud of flour being launched towards him as you aggressively scrape the excess from the top. The large clumps fly right to his chin and break to smaller bits upon impact, staining his dark gray long sleeve. 

There is a pause as you both watch each other, still and unmoving. Then you burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh my god, your face!” You squeal, dumping the flour into the proper bowl. 

You don’t think much of his silence as you dip the scoop into the flour again, but the feeling of something soft and powdery colliding with the back of your head makes you wish you had. 

Bucky is cackling now, hands grasping his stomach for support. 

“Did you really think you could just get away with that without some payback?” He coos, wiping away an imaginary tear and leaving a trail of flour under his eye as a result. 

He’s unaffected by your glare, but the poor girl next to you isn’t so fortunate. 

“Um, guys, we kind of—“

A low thump sounds as you throw a clump of flour at Bucky, triumphantly watching as it forms a large dust cloud the second it hits his chest. 

“Actually, I think—“ the girl tries again, eyebrows furrowed. 

She’s cut off again when a handful of flour is smashed onto your head. She doesn’t try to speak a third time; instead, she watches in horror as the pair of you grow slow, devilish smirks. 

And then war is unleashed. 

You lose track of time as you both throw flour at one another, laughing and shouting and running around your stations. Your skin is dusty and white, and you’re sure your hair will take more than a few washes to rid itself of the flour that had been packed into the strands; you can’t make yourself care, however, when you see the grin on Bucky’s equally dusty face. 

The world seems to come back into focus when the loud rumble of someone clearing their throat can be heard over your laughter.

You pause in place, noticing for the first time that Bucky has you wrapped in his arms as he pushes another mound of flour into your hair. It’s cheesy and cliche, and you can already hear his teasing jabs, but you ignore your thoughts when someone clears their throat again. 

Wanda stands before you both, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked. Beside her, the meaner of the two girls glares. 

“What happened over here?” Wanda inquires. 

You open your mouth to respond only for the girl to speak up first. 

“They’ve made a mess is what happened! And they’ve wasted over half of the flour! What are we supposed to do now?” She growls in frustration, arms flailing about. 

You tilt your head back just slightly, holding back a loud snicker as you feel flour fall from your head, and you look up to meet Bucky’s eyes. They’re glittering with amusement but he’s trying to keep a straight face. Winking at him, he nearly loses it, but his laughter is cut short when you move out of his arms. 

“Look, we’re sorry. We were just messing around, okay?” You mutter, wiping at your arms. 

The girl seethes as the flour falls to the floor unceremoniously. 

“You shouldn’t have! We’re almost out of flour now—“

“I’ll go get some more,” Bucky intervenes. “There’s a Walmart right down the street. It’ll be ten minutes.”

“I’ll go with you,” you offer, turning to follow him as he gets his wallet. 

A hand shoots out to stop you. 

“Oh no you don’t! Someone has to clean this up!”

You roll your eyes at the girl’s shrill cry. Turning to Wanda, you wait for her input before making a move. 

Wanda stays silent for a moment, her gaze flickering from you to Bucky. Something in her eyes sparkles with amusement, but she smothers it when the girl turns to look at her with an exasperated disposition. 

“Celine is right. Who knows what kind of trouble you two would get into if I sent you both,” she finally says. 

You shrug slightly, turning to look at Bucky. He’s holding back a laugh as he looks over the mess you both made, and before you can swat at him, he’s rushing out of the room with a promise to be back soon. Shaking your head, you grab a wet rag to start cleaning. 

You’ve moved on to cleaning the countertop when you finally notice Wanda and the nicer girl staring at you. Raising an eyebrow, you pause your cleaning. 

“What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

The girl looks shocked about being called out, turning back to the sugar and baking soda with flushed cheeks. Nonetheless, she glances over again. 

“It’s just,” she starts, voice nervous, “you two are cute.”

You furrow your brow, voice holding a slightly confused tone. “Thanks, I guess?”

Wanda speaks up now. 

“I think what Lola is trying to say is that Bucky hasn’t acted like that with anyone in a long time, so it’s refreshing to see,” she explains. 

You nod slowly, shrugging in acknowledgment. Wanda was a newer “recruit” to their friend group, so it was interesting to see her addressing the change in her friend. She’d only ever known him in this recent brooding phase, so you didn’t blame her for finding it so intriguing. 

Blinking out of your thoughts, you squint threateningly at her when you notice the smirk playing at her lips. 

“What?” You urge. “What is that look for?”

She shakes her head, amusement clear in her gaze as she turns away. 

“Nothing,” she practically sings. “It’s just interesting, is all.”

Your eyes follow her as she walks away, and you try to piece it all together—her vague response and how she and the other girl had reacted to yours and Bucky’s friendship—when a loud voice calls out to you. 

“I’m back, beautiful!” Bucky cries out obnoxiously, walking in with two bags of flour under his arm. “Did you miss me?”

You scoff loudly, wiping at the last of the flour before tossing the rag towards his face. 

“As if. It was just getting quiet.”

His laughter fills the room, and as quick as you both fall back into your teasing, the thoughts of what Wanda could be hinting at vanishing.


End file.
